


This is my Confession to You

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy Is The Only Marvel Superhero, Daisy feels, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, Painkillers, Phil Pheels, Pizza, Safehouses, fandom tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9659723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: After getting hurt by a Watchdog, Daisy confesses her feelings to Phil while doped up on painkillers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts).



> I wasn't planning on jumping on the Doped-up-Cousy fic bandwagon, but then my Muse threw an idea at me, so here's my version of this new Cousy fandom trope.
> 
> ([My lips are (not) sealed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9622721) by BrilliantlyHorrid and [had i not known](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9618881) by zauberer_sirin are much better, though, so make sure you read those 2 fics if you haven't already.)

"You smell nice," Daisy tells Coulson as he carries her from the SUV into the safehouse.

"Thank you," he says, unable to fight off a smirk. She's a bit loopy from the morphine shot he gave her to combat the intense pain she was in after one of the Watchdogs knifed her leg during their recent op. 

She sniffs theatrically, then gives him a dopey grin. "Very nice. It's one of the things I love about you. 'cos I do love you." Her tone is very earnest now, and he glances down at her with a smile. "Love, love me do, 'cos you know I love you," she sings in a low, pleasant voice, her words only slightly slurred.

He sets her down on the bed in the master bedroom. "And I love you, Daisy," he says. Because he's known that about himself for ages.

Apparently Daisy hadn't known though, because her whole face lights up, her eyes shining with moisture. "You do?"

"Of course I do," he says firmly. "You're Daisy – what's not to love?"

She shakes her head, her beaming smile fading. "Some people don't love me," she says, and her tone is so wrenchingly sad that Coulson feels his heart sink. 

She reaches out and grabs his hand, the prosthetic one. "No, no, don't be sad face, Phil. I don't like your sad face."

He sits on the side of the bed, and she immediately pushes herself upright, wincing a bit – he knows the morphine shot won't have stopped all of the pain just yet, it's just taken the edge off – and made her loopy. She throws her arms around his neck.

"No sad face, Phil," she whispers loudly. Then she kisses him.

Part of him is in shock – despite the declarations of love – but his mouth, apparently, is not, because after a heartbeat he kisses her back, opening his mouth under her eager attack.

When she pulls back, her lips reddened and looking more kissable than ever, he wonders if he should've stopped her from kissing him, and he feels bad for not thinking of that before he kissed her back. But after her remark about some people not loving her, he can't regret kissing back – he needs her to know that he, at least, loves her.

"That was a good kiss!" she declares, quite triumphantly. "Knew you'd be a good kisser."

"Did you?" he asks, amused and charmed by the way she says it.

"'course," she scoffs. "You do that thing with your tongue."

"What thing?" he asks, a little baffled.

"You know!" She gives an emphatic nod, but he shakes his head, and she snorts. "Yeah, Phil. You do – " She sticks her tongue out in a very exaggerated fashion, then drags it along her lower lip. "That."

He feels himself beginning to blush, which just embarrasses him even more, and Daisy's cackling with laughter now, throwing herself back against the pillows in a very dramatic fashion.

"I think you should get some rest," he tells her.

"Stay? Please?" The silliness is all gone now. She looks earnest but somehow doubtful, as if she's not sure he'll agree. But how could he refuse when Daisy so rarely asks for anything for herself.

"Okay."

"Thank you, Phil."

"Any time," he tells her, and leans down to brush his lips over hers in a light kiss. "Let's get your boots off, though, okay?"

"Yeah."

He carefully eases her out of her boots, then notices she's struggling with the zipper on her field jacket, so he helps her out of that, too, leaving her in her tank and the pants from her field suit. 

"You have to – you know – " She waves vaguely, and he looks at her more closely: he can see exhaustion's creeping up on her now.

"Take off my coat and shoes?" he suggests.

"Yeah, that."

He nods, and removes them, then he settles onto the bed beside her.

"Can you snuggle me?" She frowns, apparently only now noticing the effects of the drug.

"Of course I can," he says gently. He slips his left arm under her torso and draws her closer, and she rests her head on his shoulder, throwing her left arm across his chest.

"'s'nice," she mumbles.

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah," he agrees in a fond voice. "It is."

She sighs heavily, and then her whole body goes slack, as if she's just dropped straight into sleep – which he suspects is exactly what's happened, the morphine shot finally catching up with her.

Once he's sure she's properly asleep he slips his phone from his pocket and sends Mack a text to let him know they're at a safehouse so that Daisy can recover from the mission. He reassures their friend about Daisy's injury – saying simply that she needed a heavy dose of painkillers, so he brought her to safehouse to sleep them off. He suspects Mack will still worry, but hopefully not as much. After a couple of minutes Mack texts back to say he and Elena are en route to the Cocoon with the three Inhumans they rescued from the group of Watchdogs that hurt Daisy. Then he sends a second text: _Tell Tremors we'll work on her knife-avoidance skills when she gets back._ This makes Phil chuckle quietly: Daisy had been taking on two Watchdogs simultaneously when a third had attacked her from behind with the knife. He suspects that she'll agree with Mack, though – and she'll probably set up a session with him and Mack, and possibly Piper, in order to recreate the fight and work out just how she can avoid knife-wielding attackers in future. Personally he'd like to see her suit made more knife-proof if at all possible.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

Coulson hadn't meant to fall asleep next to Daisy, but he did, and when he wakes it's to Daisy muttering his name in his ear, her hand clutching at his arm.

"What is it?" he asks, trying not to panic.

"Sorry, Phil, I just – I need your help."

"Of course," he says immediately. "What do you need?"

"The bathroom." She scowls – though not at him – and he bites back a laugh, not wanting her to think he's laughing at her predicament.

She pushes herself into a sitting position, and he climbs off the bed, then lifts her from it, and she wraps her arms around his neck as he carries her through to the bathroom.

"Can you manage?" he asks diffidently as he sets her on her feet beside the toilet.

"Just about," she says, sounding less loopy and more grumpy now.

"Give me a shout if you can't," he tells her, and goes out, pulling the door closed behind him.

After a few minutes she calls his name and he opens the door to see her giving him an expectant look. 

"Let me try walking this time, please?" she asks.

Part of him wants to refuse, but he doesn't – it's not his job to decide what Daisy's capable of doing. He simply steps into the bathroom and holds out his hand, and she takes it then walks cautiously forward, limping only a little – one of the benefits of being Inhuman is that she heals fast.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asks once they're back in the bedroom.

"Yes please," she says, sounding plaintive. 

"Do you want to come downstairs to eat, or – "

"I'll come down," she says, cutting him off, and he nods, then helps her down the stairs and into the kitchen. She takes a seat at the table, then watches as he goes through the store cupboards to see what's available.

"I think I'm going to have to run out to the nearest store," he tells her. "I've got half a packet of dried pasta, and a can of whipped cream.

She frowns. "Or you could just fetch takeout," she suggests, and he smiles at her. 

"If you want takeout, I can get you takeout."

"Pizza?" she asks hopefully, and he smiles again. 

"Yeah, Daisy, I can get you pizza. What do you want?" He calls them and puts in the order, then asks if she wants to wait in the kitchen or somewhere else.

She decides on the couch, so he helps her to move into the other room, then turns on the TV, leaving the remote with her, before he goes upstairs to grab his coat and shoes.

"I'll be back ASAP," he tells her, and she nods. She's wearing a thoughtful expression and he wonders if she's remembering their conversation earlier – and the kissing. 

He lets himself out of the house, then jumps into the SUV, and drives into town to pick up their pizza order. He stops off along the way to grab some fresh milk in case they want coffee later, or in the morning – he's not sure, yet, whether they'll be staying the night at the safehouse, or heading back to the Cocoon instead. Then he grabs some croissants too – they can be zapped in the microwave in the morning, whether or not they stay here or head back to the Cocoon.

When he lets himself back into the safehouse Daisy's inspecting her leg, or rather the dressing he put on it after he cleaned and stitched the wound.

"Something wrong?" he asks worriedly.

She shakes her head. "You did a good job, as always. Thanks."

He smiles. "Any time." He sets down the boxes of pizza and puts the bag containing their side orders next to them on the coffee table. "I'm just gonna take this to the kitchen."

"Okay."

She sounds subdued, he thinks, and he guesses the morphine shot's worn off. "Do you need me to give you another shot of painkiller?" he asks.

"Not right now."

"Okay." He takes the croissants and milk into the kitchen and puts them away, then grabs a couple of beers to go with the food.

When he returns to the lounge Daisy's already dived into one of the pizzas, and he gives her a fond smile as she eats ravenously. She rolls her eyes at him, which makes him quirk one eyebrow back at her – he's not quite sure why he's getting an eye-rolling.

She chews, swallows, then pokes his arm as he sits down beside her. "You wear your heart on your sleeve."

"With you, yes," he agrees, because there's no point in denying it – it's been commented on way too often – most recently by both Mack and Elena, although not in Daisy's hearing, thankfully. Although, given her declaration earlier, perhaps it wouldn't matter.

"About earlier – " she begins, then ducks her head.

"What about earlier?" he asks, as he begins eating his own slice of pizza.

"I was a bit doped up from that morphine shot you gave me." He nods, waiting, uncertain about what's coming next. "I meant it though." There's a bit of a defiant note in her voice, as if daring him to disagree with her.

"Good," he says firmly. "I meant it too."

"Really?" Her voice is soft, and a little disbelieving.

"Of course," he says. "Why do you doubt that?"

"Because you're Phil Coulson," she says. "You're handsome and sexy and have sophisticated tastes. I'm a biracial, formerly homeless girl who dropped out of school, and – "

"Daisy, stop," he says, pained by the way she's belittling herself and her achievements. "My sophisticated tastes are an acquired habit. I come from a single parent family, son of a mother who was forced to work long hours to keep a roof over her son's head. I'm no better than you are, except that SHIELD taught me how to acquire a veneer to hide the working class kid. Besides, you're a genuine superhero."

"Phil." She blushes, as she often does when he tries to talk about her status as Quake.

He grabs her wrist as she reaches for the onion rings. "I know you find this excruciatingly embarrassing," he tells her. "But hear me out, this once, please?"

She bites her bottom lip, then twists her wrist so she can grab his hand in hers. "Go on then," she says in such a resigned tone, as if she's about to have a sentence pronounced against her, and he smiles.

"You remind me a lot of Steve Rogers," he tells her. "He came from nothing too – dirt poor before the War, a skinny kid who insisted on fighting the world. You did the same when you were in the Rising Tide, but you used words instead of fists. But Steve was a white boy. As you mentioned, you're biracial and a woman – that makes your achievements all the more impressive. You may not know this, but there's quite a few little girls out there who look up to you as Quake – you're their hero in much the same way that Captain America was mine, because they see themselves reflected in you. The fact that you went through the foster system and dropped out of school, but have become a respected Agent of SHIELD, as well as a genuine superhero, also gives hope to a lot of people. To me it doesn't matter that you'd sooner wear jeans and a button-down rather than an expensive, formal gown – your style is yours, and you're beautiful no matter what you wear."

She quirks her eyebrows, her lips twisting, and she asks, "Even in a field suit?"

"Oh god!" he breathes, and her eyes go wide, then she launches herself at him, kissing him almost aggressively, and he feels a surge of blood in his groin that would be downright embarrassing were she not attempting to kiss him senseless. He's achingly hard, his cock threatening to burst from his jeans as she pushes him down until he's lying on the couch, her body pressed against his.

"Daisy," he gasps, and she bites at his bottom lip.

"I want you, Phil," she says, her breathing ragged and her chest heaving.

"And I want you," he reassures her. "Is your leg – "

"It's fine," she says firmly, and he lets her guide his hands to the waistband of her fieldsuit pants so he can get them open and off.

They fuck, fast and furious, Daisy coming several times before he finally loses control of himself and spills his seed inside her.

Afterwards they lie sprawled across the couch, the sweat on their bodies cooling rapidly.

"So that happened," he says, trying to calm his racing heart.

She chuckles. "I believe it did."

"Hmm." He tangles his fingers in her hair, playing with it a bit – something he's often wanted to do, if he's honest. "I'm glad."

"Me too." She shifts off him, and he tries not to whine as his softening cock slips from her body. "I need a shower. And then I need to eat some more of this delicious food."

It's his turn to chuckle now. "Okay."

"Come with me?" When he raises an eyebrow, she says, a little defensively he feels, "To make sure I don't slip over in the shower?"

"Of course."

They gather up their discarded clothes, then head upstairs to shower, and while Coulson can't be glad she got knifed, he'll confess to being glad the morphine made her a bit loopy so that they were finally able to admit their feelings for each other: having this development in his relationship with Daisy is the greatest gift he's ever been given.


End file.
